>You couldn't help but feel a small pang of sympathy for the creature. I mean, changeling or not...a hit like that had to hurt something fierce. You wait patiently for the changeling to slowly regain its sense.>With quiet groans and murmurings, the changeling staggers back onto its tiny hooves.>"But queenie...I dun wanna go to school..." it babbled incoherently.>You decide to give another poke with your shovel with the hopes that'll help remind the creature of its current situation.
"Hey, bug-thing...you're squatting on my property," you announce in a firm, assertive tone. "And try not to fly off in a panic again, this place is barely holding together as it is.">When the changeling realizes its situation, it becomes visible (and understandable) tense and nervous. Its beady eyes stare up at you, fear quite palpable at this point.>"You're...not going to start hitting me with that, are you?" she (or at least it sounds girlish in voice) asks.
"I'd rather not. I'm Pot Luck...now who're you?">The changeling gulps.>"W-Wispy Wind."
"You okay? You beaned yourself pretty good.">She nods, slowly and nervously.